I dreamed of Andrew last night!
He bounded up to me and hugged me.
A beautiful smile spread over his face. I wanted more hugs, more, more, more hugs. He laughed and hugged, and hugged and hugged me.
I am his mother, but at a bit over six feet tall, Andrew towers over me, and when he hugs me he has to bend over.
It rekindled our ongoing … I am not sure what to call it, but this is what it is about.
First I was taller than Andrew (of course), as time went by Andrew became as tall as me and then, little by little he grew taller. As soon as he “overtook” me he started to boast that he was taller than me.
But I never conceded. Year after year I stood my ground (I was closer to it I suppose), I never acknowledged that he was taller than me.
Over time Andrew took to patting my head, “Oh… little mumsy,” he would say cheekily. And we would both laugh.
“Mummyyyy,” he would say occasionally. “Why don’t you admit it? I am taller than you?”
“Since when?” I would invariably reply.
No words were spoken in the dream, yet that was the amused banter between us.
Then the phone rung, I answered, it was Hugh.
“Speak, it’s Daddy,” I said, holding the phone close to his mouth. He laughed.
“Hello Daddy.” I could hear Hugh’s disbelief first, then unbounded joy and relief. Andrew continued to smile his happiness and I mine.
And then I woke up.
Andrew that was so nice, please let’s do it again.
Lots and lots of love from your little Mumsy